Lord and Lady
by Lady Orient
Summary: Long ago, a drow escaped from the wold of the Underdark. She was special, not unlike that famous Do'Urden. It was I that found her, and brought her into the ways of the upper world. Rating may go up in later chapters
1. Orient

AN: This is the beta'ed version. Enjoy

My children, it was many, many years ago when I met the Lady of Merne Dark, Phaeliandron Daergel. She was not the Lady of the Dark then; she was a wandering vagabond, freed from her cruel family and still bound by the needs of her worldly form. I was not myself then either, or at least I thought myself someone far different than Naïlo Meliamne. It was she, beloved Lady Phaeliandron, who gave us all the life, the freedom as we know it.

* * *

The traveler who had just stepped in the door of the Water Mark Tavern was cloaked in mystery and mud. The latter was easily recognizable as the muck churned up in the streets from the heavy spring rains. The former, however, though easily recognizable stuck to the figure and shrouded them in incongruity.

The creature was garbed from head to ankle in a thick oiled-wool cloak of indeterminate color, lined in fur. Close fitting boots were visible underneath the garment but disappeared under its hem. The only other clear features were the bandaged wrapped hands that slowly inched their way toward the swords strapped over the cloak. Sensing no immediate danger the hands dropped to a casual pose at their owner's sides. They obviously had not noticed me in the shadowy corner behind all of the other custom or the hands would have stayed at the blades and would invariably have drawn them. Or they did not know any better

A barmaid approached and exchanged a few words with the stranger, then led them to the innkeeper at the bar. They were by far too far away for me to hear their words, but it became apparent very quickly that the traveler was requesting room and board for far less than Job was demanding. I watched the desperation in his motions, the way the large pack shook on his back and the quivering of the blades as they stuck out from his body at odd angles.

I signaled the pretty, little barmaid over to my secluded table and whispered my request into her ear. She scampered off to tug at the innkeeper's apron. He leaned over as she repeated my message in his ear. He nodded his head, satisfied, and proposed my offer to the obviously weary traveler.

The traveler turned, located me in the gloom and hesitated. This I had expected, I saluted him with my tankard and gestured to the empty bench across from me. The traveler hesitated still and warred over the need for food and anonymity. I could not tell which won even as he turned back to the innkeeper, but he warily approached my table.

"I am known as Damian," I greeted him. "Be welcome and be seated."

"I am welcomed," the traveler replied in an oddly husky tone.

He removed his pack and set it on the floor by the bench. However, he removed neither sword nor cloak, merely adjusted them to allow him to sit. I noticed then the size of blades he carried. Both of them were nearly as tall as he was, the frogged baldric one of them was specially rigged so that the blade sat high enough as not to scrape the ground. I goggled at him using just one of the enormous swords at a time. I would never believe it if he told me he used both of them at once.

We sat in silence until the barmaid brought tankards of ale and a trencher of the mid-day meal. Even more warily than he had approached the traveler scooped up a bit of the stew with his flat spoon and brought it carefully to his shadow shrouded mouth.

"It's not poisoned if that's what ails you," I told him gently.

He started guiltily and quickly put the spoon in his mouth.

"Job is an honest man and will do his best to run a good place if a little shopworn. And he's the cleanest place in all of Faegelnor. I have a permanent room."

I could feel his eyes on me as I spoke. I could tell that were I able to see them, they would show nothing but wariness. He ate only a little while seeming to consume far more of the stew. I saw the wince in the tightening of his bandaged hand on the tankard as he took a sip of the sharp, bitter ale. He sipped it only occasionally after that. I sympathized with him, and wondered why I hadn't ordered another tankard of my special store of un-alcoholic drink when I knew he was a fighter and needed to keep his wits about him.

"What is it you do, Damian?" he asked in that odd voice.

"Is it not obvious?" I asked stroking the strung longbow that leaned against the table. "I am a mercenary, a marksman and an assassin."

"Oh," the boy said. I was sure he was of a tender age, his naivety and minimal height belied him. "And what brings you here?"

"Come now, boy, I've parted with far more than you have. I've not even been given a name."

"Oh, forgive my impoliteness. I am called Orient."

"What? No metal forged name like the blades you hold next to your spine like lovers?"

"No," he whispered hoarsely and looked down at hi hands in his lap. The fur-rimmed hood tipped back a little and a long lock of hair fell forward. The strands glittered a pale lavender white in the gloomy light.

"Where did you get hair like that, boy?" I hissed as I reached out to touch it.

He looked up sharply at me and the deep hood fell back. Bright eyes that shifted from red to indigo outlined in silver stared at me in shock, horror and fear. I realized that this was no boy and no human either. I was staring a female drow in the face. It was possible that she was between one and several hundred years old. She was a heresy, a witch, an enemy and impossibility. In those moments of realization half of the mystery fell away and sudden what she was wearing made complete sense.

She cowered away from me as I stared at her shocked and dumbfounded. She scrambled to get her hood back into place and grab her pack to escape. Luckily I came out my stupor and grabbed the bony wrist wrapped in bandages before she was gone.

"Pull your hood up again, girl, and sit down before anyone else recognizes you for what you are," I hissed at her.

I could see the fear in her eyes, but she did as I demanded. I picked up my tankard and took a hefty swallow to calm my nerves. The drow took the unintended hint and tried to look as casual as possible in the middle of a crowd of humans in which someone knew she was not. I scanned the rest of the tavern. The girl had been so silent that none of the other customers had noticed the little scuffle. We sat and fiddled with what was in our hands for a few minutes in an uncomfortable silence.

"Why don't we go up to your rooms to talk?" I suggested. "You tell Job you don't wish to be disturbed. I will follow in a few minutes."

She nodded carefully and rose to follow the course my words had set. I watched her walk to Job, pack in hand, and take the heavy key he held out to her. As she turned and took the steps to the upper level, I realized that the cloak concealed a swish of skirts and not breeches as female fighters normally wore. I waited in my seat in the corner of the tavern of Water Mark Inn in Faegelnor and wondered what trouble I had gotten myself into. Scrubbing my hands through my very short hair I sighed and resigned myself to another interesting adventure.

* * *

It was not difficult to tell which room belonged to the drow. Job was a man accustomed to catering to the wishes of sell-swords. He knew that all of them wanted at least two escape routes in any place they inhabited. That meant that the other back room overlooking the courtyard that housed his stables went to any sell-sword that came along before he gave them the smaller rooms that overlooked the street. Job, who was of course a keen businessman, charged more for the back rooms.

So I knocked on the outer door of the back room that adjoined mine. She called out for me to come in. I pushed the door open, stepped into the bright room and locked the door behind me. I had to search to find her though. She was huddled in the corner away from the bed and the windows, hiding her face. Her swords were askew and half out of their baldrics. She looked the part of a miserable and frightened urchin.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked as I approached.

She said something I could not hear. I asked her to repeat it and got a garbled reply about light. Then it dawned on me, she was a creature of darkness and the light impaired and harmed her. I immediately crossed the room to pull the covers off the bed for use as makeshift drapes. Tucking the edge out of the window effectively achieved what I was aiming for. But when I was done the room was as dark as a cave. I had always had terrible night vision so I was no longer capable of seeing anything.

"Thank you," I heard her say.

I was blind, only what I could hear told me about my surroundings and she was so silent I no longer knew where she was. Then I heard a sound, the faint jingling of small bits of metal as they touched each other. It grew slightly louder and I realized, she, by virtue, drew closer. I found that I could see, but only two gleaming, faint silver circles. And I knew I was seeing her eyes, the eyes I had thought red.

She touched my face with a hand still covered in rough bandages. The silver circles drew closer until I could make them out very clearly. The eyes stared at me, measured me, weighed the possible outcomes and backed away. The circles and the jingling of metal became faint again, and then disappeared altogether. I stood stock still where I was trying to make out anything in the darkness. I made out the sliver of light at the bottom of the door to the hall way. I had just begun to inch toward the door when a light appeared.

The soft glow of a candle lit the room. I could see the drow standing over the flame without her cloak, but her two oversized blades still strapped to her back. She smiled and seated herself at the table. Now it was my turn to be hesitant, but after a second I joined her at the table. I looked at her. Above the table I could see part of the exotic dress she wore. It looked like a patchwork of red and black silk, but it wasn't. The dress bodice covered everything important, but each section of black was a peek-a-boo of her ebony skin. It took me several more seconds to bring my eyes to meet hers.

When I finally looked up I saw a small smirk, a smug one. Now that we were alone, and out of bright light, she was at home. She was in control of the situation and my response I realized because the dress was engineered to evoke the dropped jaw response. This was the kind of drow I was used to dealing with. So I forced myself to ignore it.

"Why did you not reveal me," she inquired as she slowly unwound the bandages from her flawless hands.

I did not respond for a moment, and then I turned it around and threw it back at her. "Why didn't you kill me just now, like any other drow would have?"

"Because I'm not any other drow and everyone deserves a fair chance. That and I have the upper hand."

"Exactly."

She smiled at me then, a bitter smile that spoke of pain and misfortune. "Even when one has the upper hand most other drow do not deserve the chance."

"You are different. I could tell from the moment you walked in the door."

She smiled again, a real smile that reached those odd eyes. The eyes that flickered from red to indigo depending on the way the light hit them. "Before you knew that I was a drow."

"The way you acted down there would have been an act to any other drow. What you felt was real, I could see it in every motion you made. That made you deserve the fair chance. By the way, you asked me what brought me here. Would you still like to know?" She nodded. "Work, night work. I've been offered a job assassinating the overbearing mayor of the neighboring city."

"You mean in Hydell?" she wanted to know.

"Yes. The self-styled, Lord Oriss is overtaxing and restricting his people to the point of affecting the trade."

"I know. I spent all of an hour in that prison before I headed here."

"I have three weeks to accomplish the feat, but I fear I cannot do it alone," I told her. "I know nothing of the man and his habits and therefore have no way to corner him."

"Is that an offer I hear?" Se smiled again, an amused and thoughtful curve of those full black lips.

"It could be. I would need to see your fighting skills before I could make it definite."

"How much is the take?"

"Five thousand bits apiece."

Her eyes went wide. "Gold?"

I nodded. "Payment upon show of the pendant the man wears and his heart."

"Who wants him dead? The Emperor?"

"Close enough. Deal…?"

She caught the meaning of the pause. "For now it's still Orient." She held out her arm and I caught it up at the elbow. "It's a deal, Damian."

I let go of the delicate and callused hand. Pushing the chair back, I rose and headed toward the door. "Meet me in the courtyard after dark. We'll see how good you are with those blades of yours. The first blood will seal our contract."

"Until then," she said as I closed the door.

* * *

That was how I met Phaeliandron Daergel. My life was never the same after that odd and exhilarating afternoon. I hardly knew that I had gained the companion of a lifetime not just a one-time mercenary. There were changes that came after that day that could hardly have been expected by anyone. 


	2. First night

That first night when I tested Orient on her skills with the arms she had chosen, I had a shock and very pleasant surprise. I found that she was not only competent, but exceptional in her skills handling both weapon and body. You see, I had never fought a drow before, so the experience was enlightening.

She did not have the strength that I did but she had a much higher endurance level. She won me over by simply waiting me out; well that and the finesse with which she handled the blades that were almost taller than she was. She moved as if in a dance, a graceful twirling of limb and blade. And that was her weakness, she could not stop moving or she would lose the momentum that allowed her to wield the blades at all. So she was slow to start and had to defend herself with other blades she kept stashed all over her person including at the hems of the peek-a-boo dress she wore.

We fought for hours in this evasive method. She whirled in tight spins that brought her dangerously close to my blade but never within its reach. Well, that was until I began to tire and loose a little focus on the effort of just moving. I parried and dodged and did what I could to stay out of the way of those quicksilver blades. But I could tell that she too was loosing her focus on the match although not due to physical tiredness, but rather from what seemed speculation of my capability to keep going even though she could very well see that I was tiring.

And while she did that I took my chances and attacked. The dipping thrust that I aimed at a point just behind her right temple forced Orient to cease the incessant whirling to block. Once she lost momentum, her movements became slowed with the bastard sword in her right hand while unbalanced with the great sword in her left. This caused her to tip and lean into my blade, nicking off the top of the delicate pointed ear. The small bit of flesh fell away and the stump began to bleed sluggishly.

Orient just stood for a moment, staring stupidly at me. Slowly bringing her left hand in front of her face, she brushed the backs of her fingers against her ear and then looked in shock at the oozing liquid that came away on then. When she looked at me again it was a slightly more guarded look than before.

"This is the first time I have been blooded by anyone other than a drow," she told me. "Who are you human?"

For the first time I heard the dark elf's superiority in her voice. "I am Damian, just as you are Orient." I had retorted, not wanting to give her my true name when she so obviously did not trust me with her own.

The dark elf glared at me for a moment more, and then began her whirling dance again. I prepared for an attack, but she just sheathed the oversized blades. Then she regarded me with a wary eye. As, so in turn, did I.

"What say you to my skills?" she asked then.

"I say that though I won first blood, you are competent enough with such large weapons as you have chosen. However, I have seen nothing of a long distance or fail-safe weapon. I shall­­­–" I never got to finish my sentence at a blade whisked past my ear. I really looked at Orient and noticed that she was crouched lower to the ground, hand on a dagger in her boot top. Her other hand was held away from the folds of her skirt and holding a bladed star.

"Very well, we begin tomorrow."

After that, I never doubted the skills of this odd drow. Anything she said she would do, she saw done to the best of her capabilities. I never saw her fumbling for skills she did not have. She always did things her own way. And so the next day we set off to Hydell. We had already worked out our disguises and Orient wasn't very happy with hers.

I hired a caged wagon, that could be covered to carry her during the day, and it fit into the guises we were trying to fill. I was a trader of exotic slaves and Orient was my greatest prize. Any trader who managed to capture and subdue a full grown Drow were either playing a few short of a deck or very stupid. But if we had gauged the self-styled Lord Oriss, he would be unable to resist.

I rode ahead of the wagon dressed in the gaudiest things I could come up with to display wealth. Even from the advanced distance I could hear the noise coming from the wagon. Things rang against the bars as Orient chucked things about. She was still mad at me for the outfit I had found for her. I grinned. It would be a complete draw for Oriss and she looked absolutely fantastic in it, if only she could see. As it was I couldn't wait to get her to the palace so that she could be in complete darkness for at least a day before we were introduced to the Lord. Nights spent on the road were chancy because she had to stay outside where all the torches in the world were lit.

Finally we had arrived at the godforsaken palace. I had managed to get us a suite that was out of the way of the rest and therefore an undesirable place for the obese residents to visit. Now all I had to worry about were the servants. But that was easy to get around as well because they were expressly forbidden from coming near Orient's chamber. I wandered about our suite ordering the servants around to put the trunks and other items here and there.

Then I wandered into the chamber in which Orient' cage had been placed. From the door I could see her ear twitch as I leaned against the jamb. I could see that she was still sulking in the corner. She wasn't yet wearing any of the costumes I had had made for this excursion but no longer did she wear her peek-a-boo dress either. She wore a pair of homespun breeches and a slightly tattered shirt and she was cleaning one of those gigantic swords. She beckoned me in with a tilt of her head and I closed the door to the chamber behind me as I approached the cage. I unlocked the bars and joined her in the corner.

"I do not like this Damian," she said crossly.

"Neither do I, but you told me yourself you have not the magic to disguise your true being so we have to work with what we've got and you know that selfish pig will want you for his collection," I replied with fervor. "You will have the perfect chance to attack him. If I know you, and I think I do, you'll find a way to hide several sharp objects in those costumes and you can gut him any which way you please."

"That does have a pleasing sound to it," she contemplated the thought with a slight smile as she continued to clean the blade by the sounds I could make out.

"It most certainly does. Now, tonight I must present myself before Lord Oriss and announce your presence. You however will not be presented until tomorrow, I arranged that so that you could have one day of full dark before being paraded about on a leash."

Orient looked up at me then, I could tell because I could see those indigo eyes staring in my direction. Something flitting through those orbs, but it was gone before I caught it and the eyes returned to their work. I could hear the quiet sigh of the cloth against the blade.

"You would do better to put that away and put on one of the outfits for while I am gone," I said, perhaps unnecessarily as I turned to go. Something whizzed past my ear and I knew by the thunk that it made that I would find one of her blades in the wall next to where my ear had been.

"I shall see you when I return."

Dressed in another gaudy outfit, this time of purple and orange with green trimmings, I made my way down to the audience chamber. The self-styled Lord had yet to make his appearance, so I was made to stand in an ante-chamber with several other persons who were to be introduced to the man. I could hear them whispering in groups, some of the conversations were easily intelligible, and many of them were about the way that they had to pay tribute to the pig that did nothing for them or their children as he had promised so long ago. The only ones, it seemed who were not complaining were the ones that had gotten fat and rich under Oriss's rule. I stood between the two parties, saying nothing, moving not an inch from the center of the room. When finally the pig deigned enough time had passed and made his way to his 'throne,' the herald at the door beckoned to me. I approached the man, slowly, pride and arrogance showing in my every step.

"Your name, good sir," the herald asked quietly.

"Ashtad of Faegelnor, slave trader, fifty-second for the throne of Fothnor," I declared loud enough for the entire room behind me to hear. The sudden stillness in the room was almost shocking.

I wondered as the herald opened the great door to announce me if any realized the significance of the name and the claim that lay with it.

I turned my attention to the crowd before me. Lord Oriss sat on his throne surrounded by beautiful slave girls bearing food, wine, fans, or laying sprawled around him looking at him with what had to be falsified lust. The man was absolutely vulgar and disgusting. He reclined on his throne, all his fat folding around him. He was wearing only a loincloth with draping tassels caked with food. His face was red with his obesity. I watched him pull one of the concubines on his lap to fondle her. (AN: Remember this guy is telling a story, so 'Papa, Papa! Stop no more!') I could only just help not gagging, this was not going to be as easy as I had thought. Finally the blob of fat recognized my presence and beckoned me forward.

"So Lord Ashtad, you grace our court with your presence," the man said through the flab. "We are pleased to grant you welcome in our court."

That the man had the unmitigated gall to use the royal third person rankled on both my persona and my person. The first urge was to slaughter him then and there. After that I calmed myself with a deep breath and bowed slightly to the pig.

"It pleases me to be here," I replied.

"Please sit down," he said never moving, but indicating a chair a few steps down the dais from his.

I sat as invited and waited through all of the other introductions. No one else was invited to join us on the dais and I could see all his cronies begging like dogs for the privilege. Once all of the introductions were finished Oriss shooed away everyone except for two of the concubines, both blonde and very lovely.

"Now, good man, I hear you have brought a drow for my pleasure," he addressed me as if he and I were the dearest of friends, which I had no intention of ever becoming, but the act had to be upheld.

I nodded courteously and said, "At the moment, my lord, she is for your viewing pleasure only. While she is very lovely, if you like such things, and very delicate looking, she is untamed and very volatile. However in a few months she should be ready for whatever you have in mind."

"Very good," Oriss almost managed to clap his hands. "I take it that I shall see her tomorrow?"

"Yes, my lord. At what time would it be most convenient for my lord?"

"After the evening meal. Now, my boy, is there anything that I can offer to you for your pleasure? Eh?" Oriss nudged the blonde beauty hanging off him.

"Thank you, but no my lord." And I managed to say this with the proper amount of insinuation. "I have my own entertainment waiting for me."

Upon returning to our suite I went first to my chamber to change into more comfortable clothing. After losing the skin tight breeks and overflowing shirt, I made my way, barefoot to Orient's chamber. I found the door open as I had not left it. A tad worried, I found Orient inside in one of the 'outfits' I had purchased for her, it looked almost as if she was wearing little more than silk scarves. She was, however, covered in all the proper places and the dress was made of eleven or twelve arm spans of very fine spider silk dyed in a very pale blue. But it was not enough, I saw, to cover what looked like a tattoo on her back between her prominent shoulder blades. It was shaped like a setting sun over a craggy horizon, except that it glimmered and shone like solid silver. Such a metal could not be laid into flesh, it would poison its bearer no matter whether they were elven or not.

The drow lay in fitful slumber in her cage in the corner farthest from the door. I could tell she was trying to huddle away from the light coming in through the doorway. I supposed one of the servants had come by and opened the portal. Stupid, ignorant sons of goats. But then the thought came to me that I was thinking better of a drow than humans oppressed by a cruel leader and with that the thought that she was exotically beautiful crossed my mind. Those thoughts struck me as so unparalleled and odd that I did not know what to think.

Shaking my head entirely confused, I lay my pallet down outside her cage and lent myself to unconsciousness.


End file.
